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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29782380">Beginning of an end</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torpi/pseuds/Torpi'>Torpi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, WB: Maglor’s kingship between Maedhros’ capture and rescue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:28:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29782380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torpi/pseuds/Torpi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just before the rising of the sun, the noldor are teetering on a sharp edge and Maglor is getting restless after years of fruitless endeavours.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Worldbuilding Exchange 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beginning of an end</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/gifts">starlightwalking</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to ignoblebard, who caught all my typos, mistakes, cleaned the tenses and the typesetting; basically did the hardest job. Thank you.</p><p>Many thanks to my recepient as well who gave me a whole new idea. I hope you'll like it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Makalaurë was walking on the path near lake Mithrim, followed silently by a tall sindar scout. The stars danced in the sky, the colourful banner of the sky-river flowing brightly towards the west. The light of Rána, the wanderer, shone upon the lake, changing the dark silent waters to a molten silver mirror. </p><p>‘The light of Telperion,’ Makalaurë mused absently, turning towards the lake. </p><p>‘Hîr-nin?’ the sindar behind him asked, voice unsure. </p><p>‘The light of Telperion was silver-white, shining upon the white walls of Tirion’s houses; the roofs gleamed in their iridescent colors, dancing like water,’ Makalaurë continued, eyes burning with a faraway memory.</p><p>The sinda hummed in assent, awkwardly shifting the leather strap of his noldorin shield in a nervous motion.</p><p>Makalaurë turned to him, flashing a thin smile, his eyes burning silver-bright from Rana’s light in remembrance. </p><p>‘Tis yet something new for you and something old for me, someone that I hailed as a friend. Forgive me, Thadhron, I was reminiscing about the time Celebdil, who was thought to become one of Indis’s scribes, was taken in by my brother, the one you call the Hunter with Sky-River Hair, who punched Celebdil bloody then declared he was a warrior first and foremost. During a formal meeting in my grandfather’s hall.’</p><p>‘Oh,’  the sinda exclaimed with a soft laugh. He made his stride longer to match the other while still keeping a respectful two paces behind.</p><p>‘Indis was quite upset,’ Makalaurë mused absently, watching the Wanderer, basking in its glow. His hair caught the silver light, shining a rich brown sprayed with silver. The gems from his hair flared as well, making a halo of blue-white light around his head, cold and untouchable. The sinda licked his lips involuntarily and retreated the hand he had raised unconsciously to close on the light of the gems, letting it fall before Makalaurë turned back to him.</p><p>‘I cannot imagine him not valiant. Was there even a time like that for Celebdil?’ Thadhron asked earnestly instead, hands clenched on the leather strap sitting diagonally on his chest. Celebdil’s shield. That was all that remained of him, his body forever lost to darkness.</p><p>‘There was, even then. It was simply hidden, even to him. My brother, the hunter, is very good at finding the hidden things in people,’ Makalaurë replied, gesturing vaguely towards the banks where the water lapped in lazy waves, whispering silently. Fireflies had started rising in golden columns, their dance bringing the stars closer to the earth. They were alone, the shadows soft and gauzy next to the shining lake, thickening in folds under a copse of trees a bit further away, a black forbidding curtain towards the north. The sky was blotted out there, the stars eaten by a hungry void. </p><p>Makalaurë went towards the whispering trees with unhurried steps. Lights shone and twinkled from the encampment, closer to a fort now, with many other constructions outside lit as well in hues of gold and silver. In the west, the lights from the outposts on Ered Mithrim and Ered Lómin as the natives called them, the Echoing Mountains, shone brightly in a long serpentine line up to the north where they cut off abruptly before the encroaching darkness. </p><p>They started again on the lower eastern side from the first tributary to the lake. These lights were fewer and flickered in a seemingly erratic dance, like small candles in a gust of wind. All three rivers had their access points manned and lit with Fëanorian lamps bright enough to illuminate the surroundings in a light reminiscent of a pale bloom of Laurelin - here and there twinkling and blinking in code. Makalaurë watched the lights on the eastern side with narrowed eyes, then turned  back to the sinda, who had his back to the west and his lips lifted a bit at their corners in an attempt at levity in the face of pain and loss.</p><p>‘I am greatly saddened by bringing news of his passing to the Halls,’ the sinda  said, head bowed respectfully. ‘He was a great friend indeed. I shall remember him with great fondness and respect,’ he finished sincerely.</p><p>His stilted Quenya speech would have been quite endearing if not for the strange way he placed the syllables. He was trying though, Makalaurë had to give him that. </p><p>‘My heart is gladdened to hear of this,’ Makalaurë replied gravely, his Sindarin flowing  with perfect cadence in a steady stream. They approached a low hawthorn tree in full bloom and there Makalaurë stopped. His hand briefly touched a white flower, fingers caressing the petals. His fingers went lower, to its base, closed on it and twisted, ripping it off its stem and throwing it in a graceful arc into the lake where it rippled silver-white, slowly sinking between the stars shining in its depths. Makalaurë then turned to the black-eyed sinda, the light shining on his face, and the ellon turned his head slightly down as if pained. </p><p>‘The trees whisper, but I cannot understand them well, as I am more close to rock. I know others who can,’ Makalaurë said, inclining his head towards his companion, hands touching a trunk briefly, his fingers free of his usual rings. ‘I wonder what they’re saying?’ he added thoughtfully, turning his gaze intently to the sinda, whose eyes shied away again from his  burning stare.</p><p>‘How do you feel, Thadhron?’ Makalaurë asked him, sensing his discomfort.  ‘Do you also fear my eyes, my voice, my strength of will, despite having a sworn brother in Celebdil?’ The other flinched so Makalaurë turned away. ‘Many of your kin cannot stay for long in this light,’ he added thoughtfully. </p><p>‘My prince,’ the sinda bowed. ‘I swore fealty to you. You are my true lord. You saved us…’ he started passionately, his speech switching halfway from Quenya to Sindarin.</p><p>‘I am but a commander under my brother,’ Makalaurë replied calmly, in Sindarin.</p><p>‘But your brother —‘</p><p>‘—is alive,’ Makalaurë replied violently.</p><p>The sinda bowed his head with a small polite smile. ‘Indeed he is, if you say so my lord,’ he replied respectfully in a soft voice. </p><p>Makalaurë started walking brusquely, skirting around the trees. The inky shadows played with him briefly then released their hold, flowing away from him. He stopped at the edge, leaving the sinda in the shadows. ‘You told me you wished to tell something more than just the news of Celebdil’s passing in that surprise ambush, in which only you and another three survived. So you wished to tell me that discontent is brewing with the northern tribe. That the scouts are starting to give reports with missing information. That we do not know all the ways. That there are voices of dissent. I saved you and you are saving us in turn,’ Makalaurë mused.</p><p>‘Yes, hîr-nin, I came to warn you.’</p><p>‘Kneel and kiss my boots then,’ he commanded, turning towards the sinda imperiously.</p><p>There was a flicker in his eyes, quickly suppressed, then he threw himself at Makalaurë’s feet. Makalaurë grinned unpleasantly.</p><p>‘I know you said the newcomers would make you slaves, would tell you to kiss their feet, worship them. We were the enemies, remember? Voices of dissent indeed.’ Makalaurë added furiously, hands going to his side. </p><p>‘My lord,’ the ellon raised his head, eyes dark. ‘I am not—‘</p><p>‘And I swore to the dark-eyed elves that they would never need kneel before us,’ Makalaurë said savagely and cut off the sinda’s head in a single stroke. The head flew away in an arc from the force, splattering his face with dark blood. </p><p>‘Is everything alright my prince?’ Asked a clear voice, and his brother’s second in command appeared from the edge of the lake where he had lain in wait. Other flitting shapes rose like grey shadows from various places. </p><p>‘How did <em> that </em> get in?’ Makalaurë retorted icily, gesturing towards the spy’s corpse.</p><p>‘I apologise, my lord,’  Nestuion replied hastily. ‘We—‘</p><p>‘I do not blame you,’ Makalaurë replied, wiping the blood from his sword. It glinted hungrily in the moonlight, seemingly ready to cut again. Its master seemed to be baying for blood himself, the threat of violence still surrounding him in a hazy veil, so Nestuion wisely took a step back.</p><p>‘The northern tribes warned us about this from the beginning,’ Makalaurë remarked, lips twisting. ‘Spies and ghosts whispering shadows of doubt. They got a bit ahead of themselves, fortunately, although we must make sure about information now. We have had a new breach it seems.‘</p><p>Makalaurë finally sheathed his sword, then let his head back and screamed a call. Nestuion, teeth gritted, barely restrained himself from covering his ears in pain. </p><p>His brothers and war commanders came to him. Tyelkormo and Ambarussa, fresh from their last patrol to the east, Atarinkë, still fiddling with a small project from the forges, Carnistir walking and speaking with two of his stewards, all twisting rope into estimations, and Minyarussa was missing, most probably still on patrol, because of “unforeseen circumstances''. There were too many as of late. Delays. The dark-eyed mixed scouting regimen of avari and sindar also came, their bone jewellery clicking faintly, themselves grey shadows in the trees, mingling with the other indistinct shadows. They watched them silently, stone still, not a shred of light escaping their camouflage.</p><p>‘They’re getting bold,’ he announced, gesturing to the corpse. ‘They’re also getting closer. We need to do another general sweep of the land immediately.’</p><p>Tyelkormo’s shoulders hunched, ready to pounce, in attack or defense even Makalaurë was not sure. His brother had spent his fury in orc raids, ever on the move, called the fearless hunter by the grateful sinda. A grief-driven reckless fool in Makalaurë’s estimation.</p><p>‘I do not blame anyone,’ Makalaurë’s voice rang calm before the grim faces and burning eyes of his kin and commanders, ‘but never take things at face value. Doubt but be not afraid. Confusion now would undermine us. I tell you things you already know. But you still need reminders.’ He stopped and waited. The others remained silent.</p><p>‘I shall lead the sweep this time,’ he announced, and Tyelkormo took his arm. </p><p>‘You will not. You are the <em>regent.</em>  You have a responsibility to stay safe,’ his brother told him insistently, a hint of pleading in his voice.</p><p>‘Stay safe?’ He turned in fury upon his brother. ‘Like my <em> anyara </em> did? The head of the house can traipse alone into the enemy’s arms and I have to be careful? Stay safe where exactly?’ he added, gesturing for emphasis towards the northern darkness. ‘Here, close to Thangorodrim? Further back where there are orcs hidden in the mountains? Did we come here to stay <em> safe </em>?’</p><p>‘We are surrounded and we need to keep at least our backs protected. We do another sweep and I’ll go as well. We got news of movements in the north; we saw how they started grouping. We got new reports, we got delays and these are never a good sign. Passes are not safe anymore since you saw their erratic lights. And spies try to make us look the wrong way.’ </p><p>‘<em>Háno</em>,’ Tyelkormo began but Makalaurë did not let him finish.</p><p>‘<em>Vinya</em>,’ Makalaurë replied acidly. ‘I will go. I will also visit the native tribes. They must have had whispers in their ears as well. We need to get our stories straight.  I sense we will have another fight soon.’ </p><p>‘It might be just what the enemy wants, having us doubt each other,’ Nestuion said uneasily. </p><p>‘I will <b>not stay here</b>,’ Makalaurë said clearly. ‘Or do you think I am unable to defend myself? Should I hide behind palisades of dirt and rock?’</p><p>‘There is no question of your prowess! A stray arrow could kill you just as easily as any warrior. You could be overwhelmed, like what happened to atto and our brother—‘</p><p>‘ENOUGH!’ Makalaurë shouted with enough force to make his brother stagger back a couple of steps, face twisted in pain.</p><p>‘It’s not about you,’ Makalaurë, pointed out furiously. A thin stream of blood started flowing down from Tyelkormo’s left nostril, but his brother made no move to wipe it off. The trail of blood thickened, dripped off his chin and spattered on his clothes. ‘Get a healer,’ Makalaurë told him flatly, and his brother gave him a stiff, shallow bow, the minimal movement possible, and departed, taking his bow out and purposefully stringing it again while his aide came by with a quiver full of arrows. Makalaurë stifled a furious scream and turned back to the matter at hand. Further back, the shadows shifted in restless movements. The sinda had put their weapons at ready. Their bone decorations were silent, no glint of metal or gem-light to betray their positions.</p><p>For the first time he unleashed the full power in his voice. ’Now we march!’, His voice resonated implacably and they obeyed.</p><p>‘My lord,’ he heard the disapproving voice of the commander. Makalaurë turned to him, lashing out. ‘You thought I had taken the sinda too easily into my counsel? Were you jealous? Afraid your place at my brother’s side would be further usurped?’ he asked, advancing on him.  Makalaurë towered next to him despite them being the same height. ‘Do you wish to hear things pleasing to your ear? Do you wish to see me perform for the masses? That day is gone. Today I command. I will rein you in like a stubborn horse and I will not let you break your legs, or worse.’</p><p>‘Bold words from the one chomping at the bit to go!’ cried Atarinkë.</p><p>Makalaurë looked at him, eyes ablaze. The sindar watched in fascination and dread how his form lit up, a terrible sight. ‘<em>Toronya.</em> I follow my brother, but make no mistake. I am no follower. I am your leader.  I say and it will become your truth. The spies will be found. And they are. The crops will flourish. And they do. Our brother is alive. And he is.’ The fury in his voice when he spoke silenced any other questions, except for Atarinkë.</p><p>‘We need someone in Central Command! We have new information to add to the maps. The crops are almost ready and need to be allotted officially; we need more horses for the sweeps. There are also diplomatic trips to be arranged to the sinda in Falas.’ </p><p>‘Carnistir and Ambarussa can take care of those,’ Makalaurë replied.</p><p>‘But shouldn't the reg—‘</p><p>‘A leader knows to delegate tasks,’ Makalaurë quoted, cruelly imitating his brother’s voice perfectly, and all straightened and flinched. Makalaurë used his voice without care. He burned with vengeance and fury and against his older brother. Makalaurë should have been there as well. They would have won; they could have retreated. His fury was a burning furnace whose fuel seemed inexhaustible. He felt things were teetering on the brink; they all did, and the uneasiness kept them all walking on a knife’s edge above the dark abyss of doom.</p><p>Carnistir and Atarinkë were still displeased, forming a united front against him. ‘Did that not happen because you looked into a palantiri? To see our brother even if it was a reckless thing to do? You keep calling us reckless fools and yet you dare do the most reckless thing out of all of us. Why don’t you go there tied with a ribbon for Morgoth’s pleasure?’ Atarinkë asked icily, gesturing violently to Thangorodrim’s darkness.</p><p>‘I saw him in the pit!’ Makalaurë shouted, his voice cracking slightly for the first time; a hitch, a change in pitch was enough for him. But Carnistir was not in a mood to let him off the hook. </p><p>‘And your mind was observed!’ Carnistir shouted back furiously. ‘This is the result of your interference: a new attack. We had to abandon some mines and work was delayed; there were heavy losses. The new <em> developments </em>are also in part because of your rashness and arrogance in thinking you could—‘</p><p>‘Enough, I said. Or am I not your head of the house anymore, in my brother’s absence?’ Makalaurë asked. His younger brothers both snarled at him but bowed jerkily and departed as well, leaving him alone. Makalaurë walked a few paces and swayed. A pair of strong arms encircled him from the side and he leaned into the embrace momentarily.</p><p>‘My lord, do not push yourself so,’ he heard in Sindarin.</p><p>‘Thank you Râdaer, you may leave.’</p><p> ‘My lord,’ the other protested. </p><p><em> ‘Thank you Râdaer, you may let go </em>!’ Makalaurë repeated, a warning. </p><p>Râdaer released his hold and Makalaurë straightened. He roughly grabbed the much shorter sinda by the chin and forcefully tilted his head back to have him look into his eyes. He gazed intently, eyes burning into the avari’s eyes, dark, reflecting the stars. The other grimaced slightly but sustained his gaze. He knew the noldor found the sindar’s eyes strange and unsettling as well. </p><p>‘Lost in my eyes?’ Râdaer asked, voice amused, the tenseness in his shoulders belying his light tone. The sinda kept his hands relaxed at his sides, not letting them approach his weapons belt.</p><p>Finally, Makalaurë let him go, stepped back and bowed slightly.</p><p>‘I apologise for being rough. I wanted to make sure it was really you.’ His lips quirked in a slight smile. ‘I am happy to see you have really returned. Too many have been lost as of late.’</p><p>‘There are newcomers as well, my lord,’ the sinda replied. ‘There is one in our company who was a slave in Angband. He got a Fëanorian lamp and managed to escape. He hasn’t come here.’</p><p>‘My brothers did not allow it.’ Makalaurë said neutrally.</p><p>‘Indeed.’</p><p>‘I will speak with him during the sweep. He must know some entrances,’ he said and started walking purposefully towards the end of the embankment. Makalaurë gave a sharp series of whistles before turning back to the sinda. ‘I need to have a body servant to bring me my weapons and armour and take care of them while they are not in use,’ he spat. ‘I made my own armour and I have my father’s sword. Every time my aide cleans them I see something new; a changed ring, or a different gem in the belt; the left shoulder strap was changed twice. And my shield has two new etchings,’ he continued, annoyed.</p><p>‘It must be hard to have another do your things for you, my lord,’ the sinda replied neutrally, lips twitching.</p><p>Makalaurë whirled on him. ‘Do not call me hîr-nin yet, it sounds distasteful after what just happened.’</p><p>‘My...liege,’ the sinda continued delicately, ‘about Eliedir. He is still… hurt.’ Makalaurë nodded. His face crumpled in pain, thinking of his brother.</p><p>‘Your brother—’</p><p>Makalaurë raised a hand. ‘Don’t talk,’ he commanded, and the sinda bowed his head and waited.</p><p>Makalaurë composed himself then turned to him. </p><p>‘Let us go.’</p><p>‘We feel more at ease, my lord, knowing you have failings. We are wary of too perfect, too strong beings.’</p><p>Makalaurë laughed mirthlessly. ‘You should hope for invincible allies. For what good is it to have someone you can sympathise with if you lose? Cold comfort indeed.’</p><p>‘I can watch your back. I can do my best and I can use my body as a shield. I would. If not, I would even start to scorn you for having no trouble where I struggle. But as such, I can sing of you,’ he offered. ‘Sing for us when you go to our villages. And we will follow you. You are a great performer,’ he added. ‘Always.’</p><p>Makalaurë smiled. ‘And yet, my previous performance was quite transparent to you.’</p><p>‘A great performance!’ The sinda told him, bowing with his right hand clasped upon his left. ‘We can all appreciate one. Every step, every gesture, genuine and yet used to full effect, when they have the most impact. The power and then the vulnerability, you make people’s hearts sway your way indeed.’</p><p>Makalaurë sighed. ‘I still need to call for another meeting to discuss the breach in our girdle. I do not trust the latest messages from the eastern side. The lights do change when darkness approaches, but the enemy has many clever methods at his disposal.’ </p><p>‘Will it not take too long if you wish to move quickly, my lord? If you wish for the element of surprise, it would be wise to strike while the iron is still hot.’</p><p>The quotation marks from Quenya were starkly audible even though he spoke without accent. </p><p>Makalaurë smiled. ‘I will have them all speak at once; I can manage that.’</p><p>‘A useful skill.’</p><p>‘Indeed. Acquired while not being interested in my group’s discussion back in Tirion.’ He shook his head then sighed.  ‘If they still insist on my not being on the sweep I fear I shall beat them into submission instead. I <em> need </em> to go.’ </p><p>‘I shall put in a good word for you to them,’ the sinda replied gravelly, and a soft, involuntary laugh escaped Makalaurë before he could suppress it. </p><p>Suddenly, from the embankment, a shadow moved and came to meet them, holding a Fëanorian lamp, which blazed brightly. Makalaurë saw that he was blind, one eye gouged out, the other slashed, sewn shut with crude materials that had been ripped off afterwards; the rest of his face was untouched. </p><p>‘My liege,’ Râdaer said, ‘Eliedir, called Radon by those he helped escape. Eliedir led an escape attempt from the mines and almost got away; he let himself be captured again so that the others could flee. Now he finally got away himself and is in our council. He calls himself Nagnir now.’</p><p>The elf nodded and the bones in his hair shifted and clinked. He had many of those, beautifully engraved; but his were not from swift birds or snakes but carved fragments of fell beast bones. Nagnir smiled and his teeth gleamed, long and filed. </p><p>‘They filed my teeth when I bit them; it amused them much, and said if I bite I might as well have the right teeth for it,’ he said, accurately sensing Makalaurë’s gaze.  He showed his clawed hands as well. ‘This is another gift I received from them, and I thank them always; it helped me kill many even though I have difficulty using other weapons.’</p><p>‘Why do you need the lamp?’ Makalaurë found himself asking.</p><p>‘Not to see; but even so, its light and warmth fill me with hope. It is pure light, untainted. It was what kept me sane, and struck fear into my tormentors. Not all of them, of course, but those who did not fear the light met with my teeth and claws.’</p><p>Suddenly, both sinda turned to look at the sky apprehensively.</p><p>Rána was waning, but Makalaurë finally sensed a new light coming into play. A golden light.  Change had come. The memory of Trees sang into him and he sighed, looking on in wonder.</p><p>The sky lightened to an impossibly pale blue, with red and rosy hues lighting the Echoing Mountains first, climbing the sky and lighting hidden valleys and crevasses; foul things retreated in pain and the rivers became ribbons of golden light. Mithrim became a golden pool, pale blue. Râdgaer hissed in pain and closed his eyes; Nagnir turned his face towards the new light and smiled. </p><p>A young sinda messenger, his green sash marking him as of western side, came running up to them, shielding his eyes from the sun.</p><p>‘There was a skirmish at Lammoth, my lord. A company of orcs tried to group there but was taken by surprise by Calaquendi. We do not know them. They have women and children as well and number five times eighty thousand.’ </p><p>Nolofinwe and his host had arrived on these shores at last, Makalaurë realised. They must have crossed the Sundering Sea. His first thought was of annoyance for the new unknown quantity in all this mess, destroying their equilibrium. No, they were allies. His heart should be lifted. </p><p>He turned his face towards the west, towards the new light, and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids he felt the tremor of new life, the plants unfurling questioningly, others hiding, shadows chased  away. The very air sang and thrummed and he saw red and gold behind his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes and a brilliant golden light, the distant light of Laurelin, washed over him, warming. Arien, his heart sang, Arien and her chariot are carrying the memory of Laurelin through its fruit. </p><p>He smiled and stretched his hands towards her. He sang to her and she shone even brighter in response. The light kissed his head. A song of light came to him unbidden and he welcomed the  coming of the sun with joy. Soon, others began to weave their hopeful songs and they carried to the hills, to the north, triumphant. </p><p>In Lammoth, the skirmish had ended and the Noldor host lamented their dead in the bright new golden light. </p><p>It was the beginning of summer.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Names:</p><p>Than (To Kindle) + ron (Male))</p><p>Rada (To Make/Find a Way) + on (Male)) Radon</p><p>Eliedir (Elia (To Bless/Help Out) + dir (Male))</p><p>Râd (Path/Track) + daer (Groom)</p><p>Nagnir: to bite </p><p>Eliadir is the elf’s original name; he is called Pathfinder by those he had helped escape, and he calls himself Biter to show how he defines himself now. He did live up to his original name though.</p><p>Rána: quenya for the moon</p><p>Arien: the maia who steers the boat carrying tje fruit of Laurelin, the sun.</p><p>Vocabulary:</p><p>Vinya: little, used as a term of endearment towards a younger brother; here Maglor uses it to stress the difference between them: he is the <i>elder</i> and Tyelkormo is the younger brother, and should stay put.</p><p>Toronya: brother, old quenya; used for emphasis</p><p>Háno: brother, neutral, used by Tyelkormo to appeal to Maglor</p><p>Anyára: old, ancient, shortened form of anyára háno, term used for an older brother (very formal), used here as a term of endearment. </p><p>The calaquendi have shining eyes, those who have not seen the Trees do not; all see the other as strange.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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